A Death In The Family
by Jebbykins
Summary: When a battle goes wrong, the survivors must deal with the consequences. Soren-centric.


Disclaimer: I do not own Fire Emblem or it's characters.

War was not a pretty thing. It was not glorious, it was not honorable. It was gruesome and terrible, a self-destructive act of madness. It took lives from innocents on both sides, and when the bloody haze finally settled, there were no winners.

The aftermath of the battle was clear; bodies and weapons strewn about, casualties of both sides, no doubt. Some had been stabbed clean through, perhaps with a lance, or a sword. Others…they'd died slower. Huge claw-shaped gashes in their stomachs, armor rent open by powerful fangs. Others still had suffered innumerable cuts from the sting of wind magic, and some had burned to death, immolated by fire.

Near the center of the battlefield, a body lay. His red cape was fanned out behind him, providing a buffer against the filthy battlefield, turned red and soft with blood. His normally swarthy complexion was gone; the loss of blood had turned his skin pale, death seemed to be worming its way into him already. A vicious axe wound in Ike's side had ceased bleeding, but only because there was little left to lose.

Beside Ike, a second figure knelt sobbing uncontrollably. Soren's red eyes were screwed tightly shut, great, wracking wails of anguish making his thin body shiver beneath his black robes, pooled around him on the ground. Small, pale fists clutched Ike's cape desperately, the thin fingers digging tightly into the fabric. Rhys, the orange-haired priest, knelt on the other side of the fighter's body, his staff clutched tightly in hand, gentle eyes turned down in sadness.

The rest of the Greil Mercenaries surrounded the pair, each in different states of despair. Titania, usually composed and calm, wept on Oscar's shoulder, arms tight around her fellow paladin. Oscar was whispering soothing words into her ear, probably to calm himself just as much as her. Boyd, ever the manly one, held back his tears to some degree of success, quiet sniffling barely escaping his lips. He held Mist against his chest, who shivered and shook, quietly sobbing, refusing to look at her brother's body.

Shinon, the red-haired archer, clutched his bow tightly and grit his teeth, eyes narrowed. He'd never liked Ike, but…he wouldn't wish the kid dead. He winced as Gatrie, the great blue knight, bawled beside him, tears streaming down his cheeks. Rolf clung to Mia tightly, hiccupping denials into her chest, while she just petted his bright green hair, tears sliding silently down her face. _A woman must be strong, _she reminded herself. _Ike wouldn't want to see me like this. _

The grim scene seemed frozen in time, nobody moving, nobody saying anything. The atmosphere seemed stifling, weighing down on them all like a sack of bricks on their chests. Finally, after what felt like days, Rhys looked to Soren. "S-soren…maybe we sh—"

"Goddess damn you!" Soren shouted, making the rest of the Mercenaries jump. "Goddess damn you, Ike! You promised you wouldn't die! You promised me! Damn you, damn you!" He threw himself against Ike's body, wailing into the blue-haired man's chest. "Y-you were…you were my only f-friend!" he cried, his dark hair splayed out against Ike. "You said you wouldn't…you wouldn't die…for Mist, and me…and the rest of your friends! And you lied! Yo-you lied to us all!" A small fist drew back, and Soren punched Ike square across the jaw, then he crumpled again, a sobbing, quivering wreck.

Oscar tenderly dislodged himself from Titania's iron grip, and, making sure she wasn't about to fall, slowly moved to gather Soren in his arms, an easy task given the little mage's light frame. The green-haired paladin looked down at his comrade, so broken and shivering. Oscar chewed his lip, and held Soren close, almost rocking him. "It's…it's okay, Soren," he murmured, cradling the Branded youth. "He's with his parents now, I'm sure they're very happy to see him." Soren's eyes snapped open at that, and he glared half-heartedly, squirming out of Oscar's grip.

"Damn his parents! I want him here, with us!" Soren shouted, shaking with rage and anguish. "I want him at the table beside me, eating his food and everyone else's. I want him alive and happy and with his family. I want to be able to wake up every morning and see him here, with us!" Tears sprung anew, and Soren collapsed against Oscar again, crying.

"I loved him too," Oscar assured Soren gently, a strong hand rubbing Soren's back. "We all did. He was our best friend and our commander, and we would have given our lives for him." A general murmur of agreement rose up from the mercenaries gathered around Ike, save for Shinon, who simply looked away, pained. Slowly, Soren's eyes ran dry, and his hiccupping sobs came to a quiet stop, though his body still shook in Oscar's grasp, pale face buried in the paladin's green chest.

Gatrie shuffled forwards, tears still streaming freely from his big blue eyes. He stooped, and gently scooped Ike's body into his arms, sniffling. Oscar looked back down to Soren, and murmured, "Let's take him back to the base…we'll get him cleaned up." He looked to his brother, who had picked up the now-unconscious Mist, and nodded. Boyd returned the gesture, and the group began the slow, arduous procession through the battlefield to their camp.

The ground seemed to give way beneath their feet, making the trek there impossibly long. They trudged slowly, their limbs like lead, the same thought in all of their heads: _Why? Why Ike? Why couldn't it have been __**me? **_Again, a stifling, heavy silence settled over the group, until Soren broke away from Oscar. "I…I need to be alone," he whispered, then was gone before the paladin could stop him, hurrying away from the camp.

Soren ran until his feet couldn't carry him any longer, and he collapsed to the dirt, caring little for the abrasions he suffered to his hands and knees. The mage curled his hands in his dark robes, ground his teeth together, then threw his head back and screamed. Rage, anguish, and frustration…it all flew from his lips as he screamed at the heavens, tears once again rimming his red eyes. Soren screamed and screamed, until he couldn't scream anymore, his throat raw and hurting. He dropped to the dirt then, thoroughly spent, and that's where he passed out, the first cold droplets of rain on his face the last thought in his head before he was asleep. _Fitting…the Goddess weeps for the hero of Tellius…_

The distant sound of metal on wood roused Soren slowly from his sleep, and the mage opened an eye slowly. The warm light of the sun shone through the flap of his tent illuminating the free-floating specks of dust beside Soren's bed. Wha…the mage looked down at himself. He was in bed. He pulled back the covers to discover he had been stripped and washed, his cuts and bruises treated. Hmm. He needed to be up soon. No doubt Ike would nee—

Ike. Last night's events came flooding back to Soren, and he braced himself for tears. They never came. No matter how much he wanted to cry, he just couldn't. _What kind of friend are you? _Soren berated himself silently as he slipped out of bed, reaching for his robes. _You can't even cry for Ike…_The mage dressed somberly, then shuffled out of his tent.

"Good morning, Soren!" Mist offered a chipper wave as she handed out plates to the collected group of mercenaries. Exhaustion was clear on her face, as well as everyone else's. They obviously hadn't gotten much sleep. Oscar knelt by the fire, cooking something that even Soren had to admit smelled delicious. Rhys, perhaps the most exhausted-looking of all, leaned against Titania for support, all color drained from his face. The camp was quiet as Oscar served breakfast; each person seemed unwilling to talk about last night.

A third time, that heavy silence settled, and for a second time, Soren finally broke it. "How can you not be crying for him?" he demanded, stamping a foot. "He gave his life for us, and we're just acting as if nothing happened?" Titania looked up sharply, and put a finger to her full lips. "Try to be quiet, Soren…some of us are still resting." Soren blinked, confused. No…everyone was here. Shinon, Gatrie, Mia…but, that meant…Soren's heart thudded against his rib cage, threatening to crack it at any time.

"Th-there's someone who wants to see you, Soren," Rhys stammered, obviously ill. He raised a weak hand, and Soren's mouth went dry as the pale finger pointed to a tent. Ike's tent. Rhys smiled faintly, then rested his head on Titania's shoulder.

Soren took a numb step forward, as if he had forgotten how to walk. He walked slowly towards the tent, blood pounding in his ears. The mage's step were uneven as he broke into a jog, and finally a mad sprint for the tent, stumbling over rocks and twigs. At long last, he reached the tent, and ripped the flap aside. For a moment, he simply stood there, then dropped to his knees. "Goddess…" he whispered, a great, tremulous smile spreading across his pale cheeks.

"Hi."


End file.
